“I momentarily considered how much easier my life would be as a confederate-flag waving, gun collecting, (cheap) whiskey slugging southerner of relatively low social class and modest income. I imagined what my life might orbit, and the absurdly over-endowed machine I would use to get around in. I realized how much simpler my politics would be, and who I would hate and adore. What I would be angry about, and what sorts of things would please me.

As if there was a simple checklist.

And I knew I could do it; I could just ‘switch over to redneck’, at least, in the part of my imagination that rapidly gains precedence when I ape their accent for fun. For a moment, I saw my life transformed to a world of trucks, guns and poon-tang. A world where the lines were drawn clear and boldly, regardless of their meaning or origins. For a brief moment in time I imagined that life, and felt how much simpler it would be to enact its charades than, for example, those that please my fancy.

Thankfully, the paper roll next to the toilet was near yo hand, so I was able to complete my errand efficiently. The way a toilet takes it all away can really be reassuring at a moment like that.”

— Bobby Yingo in Private Conversation